Monochrome Kaleidoscope
by overwhelming nothingness
Summary: He knew for sure that this boy of 16 was the same cobalt-eyed enigma that has plagued his dreams for as long as he can remember. The question was: "How will the story unfold from here on end?" [AU: teacher!Eren, student!Levi]
1. And so enters the owner of cobalt hues

Eyes that bordered between varying shades of blue and green lost focus as the awareness of their owner shifted from remaining inside the confines of reality towards the undeniable beckoning of reverie. Try as he may to stop himself from doing so, he knew he had no other option but to give in and let loose. Never once have his valiant attempts of resisting his stand-stills bore fruit, henceforth he stopped trying. Eren soon found himself devoid of sight a couple of seconds after his decisions to retreat inside of his mind due to his eyes coming to a close in an effort to drown out everything around him, so he could his attention could solely be on the flashes of distant visages that have began playing like a movie within the very recesses of his sagacity.

Always, always, always, always there were the same images – images of cool cobalt eyes that sent shivers down his core every time they looked at him, of a firm yet gentle voice that called his name with, more often times than not, undetectable fondness, of a frame much smaller than his own that fitted perfectly inside the cage of his arms, and of every scar and blemish on the aforementioned built.

Accompanying these nostalgic visions were apparitions of pandemonium, of monsters, of hopelessness, of despair, and of utter depression, however these fabricated realities will always be overpowered by the warmth and comfort that radiated from the mere presence of the cobalt-eyed male.

He has always pondered upon the possibility that perhaps his dreams were not simply dreams, but perhaps they were memoirs of his from a far-away time – that was highly unlikely, however. Human belief dictated that when a soul went through reincarnation, he will be stripped of his memories and will start off a life completely free from the shackles of remembering who he was in his previous life. Maybe God made a mistake and let slip some of his memories inside his subconscious when his soul was once again sent into the world?

_Bullshit _, he thought vehemently as he re-enforced his endeavours to free himself from his overly active imagination and to allow himself to focus once more on the upcoming freshman address. True enough, it was his imagination that provided him a living with his many published historical and fantasy novels themed after his strange dreams and it was undeniable that it was his publications (products of his imagination) that landed him a decent enough job as a respected English teacher in one of the most prestigious high school in the country; he feared that it was too powerful, too realistic – if he let his imagination overpower him, he may as well render himself insane.

He needed to anchor himself more firmly to reality, or else he was done for – or so his parents and his adoptive sister have always lectured him about. And he has done well to follow their advice for the past 25 years of his life. It was the very fact that he had a family in this present time, had a healthy mother and father, a passably sane (though as overprotective as she was in his dreams) adoptive sister that helped him keep his sanity, or at the very least they were a large faction of what grounded him to reality; the other part, much larger than the first, was the person in his dreams – that person with cobalt eyes that were always adorned by this endearing dullness, which made them appear monochrome. Eren hypothesized that this little eye discoloration was due to the numerous horrors the other man has seen, after all they (inclusive of himself and the man inside his dreams, come nightmares) did live in a world of macabre.

That said, he shook himself out of his stand-still, despite the negative after-effects that threatened to haunt him for the rest of the day. He deemed it better to be in a slightly foul mood for the whole day, rather than get chewed on by Principal Pixis later on for his lack of noticeable interest in the address that will mark the start of the school year. The old man may be nice, but when it came to matters such as this one, matters which he gave grave importance to, he changed from a smiling senior citizen to an dictating authoritarian with some very unanswerable anger issues – far more unmanageable than his own, which was saying something.

Heaving a sigh, he allowed his blue-green eyes to show themselves once more to the world and he forced himself to concentrate on the speech of the freshman representative that was about to start at any moment.

Soft footsteps were heard from where he sat, their volumes greatly decreased by the chatters of the students and his distance from the stage, however, despite all that, they were very distinct and sharp, very loud, in fact – far too loud. He dismissed the thought – it was his imagination again, playing tricks on him; he did force himself out of a stand-still, which meant his senses and perception of reality were a bit shaken up.

They had to be.

They had to be, because if they weren't, then he most likely was still inside a dream. Maybe he had earlier woken up from a dream inside of another dream; he had, hadn't he?

He had.

He had.

He had.

He had, because if he hadn't, then he saw absolutely no logical explanation to this catastrophic phenomenon of apocalyptic proportions.

There was absolutely no way that the man in his dreams was standing in front of him, with the same authority, same demeanour, same atmosphere, same pensively sharp cobalt eyes, in the form of this year's freshman representative.

His eyes were wide, considerably wide and disbelieving.

This was not happening, this was – this was –

"My name is Levi Smith, the first year batch representative,"

Well God damn, it was happening, or so the very presence of the latter confirmed and whose sight was now travelling, seemingly sizing up his audience. Because of this gesture, the teen's cobalt eyes (the same shade, the same shade, the same shade, the same shade) soon locked with his own bewildered blue-green irises. And then he knew. He knew for sure that this boy of 16 was the same cobalt-eyed enigma that has plagued his dreams for as long as he can remember.

* * *

**[Author's Note]**

And thus the end of the first chapter, I will continue this. I just wanted to expand a comic I've read in where Eren was the older one and was a teacher and Levi was but a student, I do not know how the comic continues, so I guess I'll have to give it my own story.

Anywho, I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter, I still lack in some aspects of characterization and my grammar and word choice are probably atrocious, so please comment and critic.

Shingeki no Kyojin does not belong to me, which means that the characters here are not mine, I hope they are, but they are not and will never be, sadly.


	2. Who exactly is Lance Corporal?

A silent scream, voiceless and unnoticeable if you were not straining yourself to hear or notice it, was all that echoed through his very person as he contained the surprised yelp that threatened to escape his throat (had it been always this dry). He could not risk disrupting the ceremony and facing the wrath of the school executives, Principal Pixis, especially. So, he planned to do what any sane person would do if ever they found themselves in the same situation he was in: excuse himself and gather his senses elsewhere, try (try with every fibre of fervour he had in him) to collect his shattered composure and deal with the situation as nonchalantly and as maturely as he possibly could.

The keywords to all of this being "planned" and "try", because try as he may, he found himself unable to move a single muscle. His body was struck with involuntary stillness as his eyes remained transfixed on the boy speaking on the podium with as much aloofness and power – the same traits he has always had in Eren's dreams. As much as he wanted to move (to run away into the comfort room and splash his face with cold water), his body refused to register his brain's command to remove his gaze from the personification of his sub-consciousness' surrealism.

Seeing as he could do nothing but watch, Eren allowed his lungs to release the carbon dioxide that he had been unwittingly storing since the first moment he saw the other, to resupply with much needed oxygen, and then, he watched on, eyes never once leaving the lad.

To anyone who saw him, he would pass off as a teacher who was highly impressed with the speech being delivered by the youth, which he really was, together with the entire faculty that was present in the room and his fellow freshmen folks. Indeed, the content of the representative's speech was impressive. You can deduce that he earned his place for a reason and that his level of critical analysis on life and education was not anymore in the level of any high-schooler. He was wise, he was with wisdom that none other than he possessed – heck, he might even be more mature than one of his fellow teachers whom he shall hide by the name of Jean "Horseface" Kirschstein.

However, it was not his speech that drew Eren to him – his eyes; they were what demanded every ounce of attention in Eren's mind. They were exactly the same as the man in his dreams. _Exactly the same. Exactly the same. Exactly the same. Exactly the same_... and on forth went the mantra inside himself. He has described himself and he has accepted himself to be a man of great intensity and passion for whatever or whoever caught his interest. This case, it was more of a "who" than a "what", but perhaps this was all a big "what". Perhaps this was only a dream (God, let it be a dream, let it be a dream). Sadly, those eyes – those God-forsaken eyes – they pinned him to reality as the lad returned his intense gaze with an unfathomable gaze of his own, not caring that he was in front of hundreds of people.

This realization forced Eren's heart to stop for a millisecond, he concluded since it was fatal for the heart to stop for a whole second, if that happened then he should already be on the floor, suffering from a heart attack; but he might as well be having a heart attack, anything – anything at all, any excuse at all to remove himself from the other's line of vision. Being the direct recipient to the attention of those cobalt eyes was not the most comfortable scenario one could find himself in, but then again, he could not help the swell of pride that coursed through his system (God, don't let this be a dream, let it be real, let it be real), and he couldn't even explain why he was so pleased with having on him the gaze of someone nine years younger than him. He was going to blame it on the cliché "dream come true", because hell, this was – they (those cobalt eyes) – he (the boy on the podium) was Eren's dream come true.

Thanks to his trance, the speech ended with him unable to comprehend anything from it, other than that one line: "Education is the key to humanity's future. Everyone who utilizes well what they have learnt from years of schooling are our hope, but only a select few who can use their acquired skills for their quest towards excellence can be considered as 'humanity's strongest'".

He only realized the other was finished when their eyes disconnected due to the inevitability of the boy's exit from the stage, however never once did Eren's eyes leave him. Quite the contrary. His eyes were more focused on him now, afraid that he would lose sight of him, afraid that if he looked away, reality would creep up on him, be the harsh mistress it was, and declare the whole span of his thirty-minute self-agony was for naught.

Unfortunately for him (his life has always been unfortunate, hasn't it), reality decided to be a coaxing and teasing son of a bitch, this he decided when the figure of his focus began traversing through the crowd that flocked around him, so he could close the distance between them.

What, what, what, what, wait -

"Jaeger-sensei," Levi began.

Too late, too late, too late!

He hasn't the time to escape, and this wasn't a dream, this was reality, this was reality.

What the actual fuck?

"Hmn?"

Despite swallowing a plentiful amount of saliva to rid his throat of the dryness that has decided to reign supreme in it, he finally managed a soft (shaky) hum of acknowledgement. It was useless though, as soon as he managed a reply, the dryness returned – he attributed it to the other's very existence – those cobalt eyes that were now solely on him and that familiar voice that was now vocalizing words to strike a conversation.

"Levi Smith," the ravenette said as he offered the older a hand, a greeting that remained unreciprocated for a couple of moments, due to Eren's indignation that this was happening. His inability to accept, hence comprehend and thus settle into an ethical reaction sequence caused silence to seize the atmosphere between them – _comfortable_ silence if he may add. It was his staring and his inability to reach out his hand which caused awkwardness. It was only when cobalt hues shimmered with something unfathomable (always, they were always unfathomable, weren't they) and their owner's outstretched hand retreated by a small fraction was he probed to take the Levi's hand into his own and to force his brain and body to function.

He let out an apologetic laugh. "Sorry, kinda spaced out for a moment there."

"I noticed," the student replied casually, almost deadpan, save for the twinge of... relief (and sarcasm)? Was that relief? No, perhaps not, he will settle for deadpan, sarcastic and casual.

"Nice to meet you, Levi. Though the introduction wasn't necessary, I think everyone here knows you already, being the freshman representative and all."

One more thing to be curious about. Why did Levi approach him and introduce himself personally to him? Out of all the teachers in the room, of all the people in the room -

"So you haven't seen the class rosters yet," and there it was – that familiar tone of condenscending disappointment, come haughty snark. Eren felt that if it wouldn't be a sign of disrespect, then Levi would've clicked his tongue at him. "I am in Class 1-A, your advisory class."

Eren's mouth formed into a perfect circle, his geometry teacher would've been proud. "Oh, I see. Sorry, I was going to check the rosters later on when the students have settled down." Why was he explaining himself to a student, his student (_his_ student, his _student_, _his student_), no less?

"Didn't think I'll be given an advisory class, though." True to his words, he never expected to be given a class. He has had an excellent rapport with students, but his momentary dazes and low sense of realism deemed him unfit for something that involved responsibility and obligation, plus he was a novelist first, before a teacher. The principal knew well of this and has thus never assigned him to properly govern a class, which had been fine with him.

So why, why after three years of educational service did he have to get assigned to an advisory class now? Fate was twisting his life – first this boy with uncanny resemblance to someone he has convinced himself only existed in his imagination, now this – he had to see the boy every single day, because he was his homeroom teacher.

"I see, I simply wanted to introduce myself to my homeroom teacher personally," was what Levi said before he broke their connected gazes to look at their still joint hands. When had they entered into a silent staring contest, again – better yet, why is neither of them making a move to disconnect their hands?

"Also, I am a fan of your works. I especially liked the recent book of your 'Attack on Titan Series', 'The Scouting Legion'."

There was something in the way the kid said it that was special. Special not in the "off" kind of way, but in a mysterious kind of way. The way the title of his book rolled down the other's throat sounded very right, it was almost alarming.

"Thank you. Always happy to meet someone who can comprehend my books enough to appreciate them," he smiled. He doesn't know why a shit-eating grin appeared on his face, but it did, and he felt little need to conceal it. Over-powering his feeling of surrealism was his author's nature – the feel of someone telling you that they liked your novels was always a good feeling for any novelist, though Eren has never felt this way before – he has never felt this sort of joy - pure, unadulterated, uncontrollable.

Sure, he was aware that his books kicked ass (his ego has been stroked several times by his collegues), his numerous best-seller awards proved that (which totally gave him gloating rights over horseface), but something about the younger acknowledging his literary pieces made his heart soar, almost as if it was on 3D Maneuver Gear (a tool that people in his novel used for locomotion whenever they fought titans).

He was a little glad that their hands were still connected, it took him less effort to shake the student's hand once more as a form of gratitude. Something about the thought of letting the hand in his go bothered him. He did not want to, which was a bit creepy, even for him.

Eren was the first one to take back his hand, so he could use it to cover his mouth as he coughed to himself a bit - an excuse for abruptly retrieving his hand from its earlier lock with the latter's.

"They are quite a read. They are unlike most bullshit contemporary literature that only focuses on love and overrated sincence fiction ideas."

Ouch, he was harsh on commentary, but he was right. One of the reasons became an author was because his childhood had been filled with nothing but disgusting books about fairytales, romance, aliens and other planets. He wanted to show the world that there were other genres, his recurring nightmares helped a lot in his quest, they gave him ideas.

He could not stiffle the fit of chuckle that rippled through him at his pupil's brash words. Unconsciously, he raised a hand towards Levi so he could ruffle his hair fondly, an action which he regretted soon after, when he saw a glint of annoyance from the younger male's cobalt eyes, but instead of heeding the subtle warning, he continued on with ruffling the other's hair, a large smile on his face.

Somehow defying the silent order of release the shorter gave provided him gratification.

What the hell? A better question would be "Why the hell?"

"Didn't think I'd meet someone who shared the same thoughts about 'bullshit contemporary literature'."

"Yes, it obvious enough, isn't it?" The latter's lips formed into a think line as he withdrew form the offending hand with a hiss, which reminded Eren of a cat. When he has successfully established distance between himself and Eren, Levi spoke up. "Anywho, I just wanted to introduce myself, Jaeger-sensei. See you later in class."

With that, Levi started to walk away.

Eren could not help but stare at his small back, that went well, at the very least he mustered up enough composure to be conversational with the latter.

"Yeah, see you later," he called after him. However against Eren's expectations, instead of continuing on to his designated, Levi halted and turned so he could face Eren fully. "One thing, sensei. I have a question about one of the characters in your book."

"Huh?"

"He has appeared from book one up to the current book – humanity's strongest soldier, a.k.a. Lance Corporal, I'm just a bit curious…"

There it was again, that irregular heartbeat. Lance Corporal, humanity's strongest, cleanfreak extrordinaire, Eren's favourite character – the one he designed after the man in his delusions – the one who looked disconcertingly like the student before him.

"What about him?"

What was this? Why was this? Why the feeling of foreboding in his gut? Why did he want to ask Levi to stop, to not continue with his query?

"It's just that you haven't exactly given him a name, which kind of strips him of a proper identity- "

**Stop. Stop. Stop.**

"Might I ask: who exactly is Lance Corporal?"

* * *

**[Author's Note]**

Alright, what the actual fuck. I got carried away with writing this. Five freaking pages with little margin of Microsoft Word. What the hell? Thanks to the plot bunny swimming in my head, I failed to do other vital tasks. Thank you, EreRi, for once again destroying my schedule. You know I love you, but please. Ugh, so here is an update, guys. Hope you liked it. Seeing as I had no commentary on my first chapter, I'll assume that it was not atrocious. I do hope that the second chapter is more interesting to you all, heh.

Again, Attack on Titan is not mine. If it was, Eren and Levi will be on each other like bunnies. Also, **Fou-Chan**, thank you for following this story. **Scarlet Lawlie****t**, thank you for adding this to your favourites, oh gosh.


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